Chapter 4

The closer we got to Dooievlei, the quieter Angie became. This made me regret the idea of having her tag along on this trip. When we departed, this was all just an adventure for her. Now, the closer we got to Dooievlei the more the realization set in that she was about to see where her parents perished. But, sooner or later she will have to deal with it. Now, I felt that I was not the one to share this moment with her. But who else could she have with her? Roland? I know I won’t have words of comfort for her, but at least she would not be alone.

Four minutes out of Dooievlei, and Angie sat looking out the side window, staring at the distant horizon where the dunes were packing one onto the other. Looking like mountains and blown by the winds, these dunes were growing over time. The crests were getting higher and higher from the sands deposited onto them by the winds.

The bottoms of the dunes were compacted as hard as rock. With winds blowing from all directions at an even pace, these dunes don’t move a lot. They stay in one place, growing higher as time goes on, forming rows of sand ripples across a vast space. Some dunes were 300 to 400 metres in height. And Angie was right; from our altitude they looked like frozen ocean waves, glowing bright and blinding in the mid-morning sun.

“We’re here,” I said. Angie stirred and looked forward out the windshield, trying to look right through the dunes.

“I don’t see anything,” Angie said softly. Her voice was faint and far away in the headset.

“Over that big daddy of a dune. You’ll see the white of the pan in a moment,” I said. And true to my word the contrasting brilliant white of the clay pan started to become visible, creeping out slowly above the crest of “Crazy Dune.”

“I see it now,” Angie said, still looking sombre. I banked to our left and started to lose altitude. Dooievlei lay at 600 feet above sea level. The dunes were about between 800 and 1000 feet high. I’ll make my run over the pan at 1500 feet.

“You’re turning away?” Angie stated more than questioned me.

“I am setting up for a run over the pan from north to south. That way we are sure to spot the DC-3,” I said. “And we clear most of the high ground.”

“Okay. It makes sense.” Angie sighed and followed the high dune with her eyes as I completed the turn to the left. I sensed that she was afraid of what we might see in the pan, yet she was on edge to get there. These conflicting emotions within her had me worried.

I completed the turn to the left, levelled out at 2500 feet above ground level, and flew on straight to bypass Dooievlei and get to the north of the pan.

About five kilometres past Dooievlei I could see the dry washed-out valley of Sossusvlei in the distance. I used it as a visual reference and started my turn back to Dooievlei. The vast expanse of desert lay tranquil and bare around us. Down on the ground, it will be blistering hot.

I brought the Baron around to the south and set the throttles to halfway open. The Baron decreased its speed, and at 150 knots indicated airspeed, I set the flaps to fifteen degrees. We flew towards Dooievlei, now dead ahead in the south.

The high dunes on both sides of the pan were clearly visible. Open to the north and south, we could see the brilliant white of the clay pan, contrasting with the rust-brown and tan of the desert sands.

“There!” Angie exclaimed as the dead and dry camel thorn trees in the north of Dooievlei flashed beneath the belly of the Baron. Up ahead I could see the “Crazy Dune” tower above the dry and cracked flat pan of Dooievlei. Unmistakeably, the faded green and white fuselage and silver wings of the DC-3 loomed out of the heat waves, shimmering and dancing on the pan.

I just made out the DC-3 as it flashed past us at 280 km/h. I concentrated on climbing the Baron out of the pan, opening the throttles to the stops, and retracting the flaps and wheels. The Baron surged forward in a climb. I set up for another run and turned my head towards Angie.

“Well, I could not see too much, but it looks to me that the aircraft was landed there!”

“It looked the same to me! Why, Ash? Why would they land here?” Angie asked a rhetorical question I did not know the answer to. Only her parents could answer that question, and they were not around. I set up for another pass. This time a little slower, within the limits of the aircraft.

This time I came in a little lower, flaps and wheels down. Minimum flying speed in the dirty configuration, nose high to maintain flying speed, about 50 feet off the surface of the pan.

With Angie seated on the right of our aircraft, she unbuckled her harness and got up to one knee on the seat; I suppose to see better. I knew that her emotions were running wild, and it was against all logic and rules to do what she did, but I let it pass for now.

This time I took a good look at all the surroundings of the dunes and other obstacles, set the aircraft up for a safe pass, and looked to the left. I tried to capture as much of the scene as possible without flying us into the dunes.

“Ash! The plane is in a good condition. It’s not CRASHED!” Angie exclaimed. “There’s even covers on the engine inlets and outlets. It looks like they landed and secured the aircraft!”

In the fleeting moment of the DC-3 flashing past us on our second run, I took in the scene as well as I could. Yes, it seems as if the plane was landed there and secured! It was still standing on its three undercarriage wheels. Even the propeller blades were feathered, turned back to a position of the least resistance to the air from the front of the aircraft. The tyres appeared to have gone flat, but it can also look that way due to the slight build-up of wind-blown sand around the aircraft.

Also, there was some sign that the cargo was unpacked, as three wooden crates were laying upended a little apart from the DC-3. I also noticed a black spot on the otherwise white background of the pan, near the nose of the aircraft. Maybe someone made a campfire. Odd? No, not if they landed and spent some time there.

Did they run out of fuel? Were they forced down? Did they willingly land, and were waiting on someone? If it was an emergency, why did they not make a radio call? Why was the emergency locator beacon not activated? If the aircraft was landed in an emergency, why did they not manually activate the ELT? Where are Angie’s parents? Are they still inside the DC-3? Questions, questions, and more questions. We may never know. I need to get here for Angie’s sake. Fast.

I made another two passes over the pan. This time I also confirmed my previous calculations that I would be able to fly the aircraft out. Yes, the DC-3 was a Braddick DC-3TP. I would only need about 900 feet of flat space to get it airborne, no matter what the weight is on-board. But that information is need-to-know only, and Roland does not need to know.

Angie surprised me during the third pass by reaching into her backpack and bringing out an SLR-type Nikon camera with a huge lens. She nearly poked me in the eye as she snapped shots of the DC-3 passing by.

On my fourth and last run, I took the Baron in as slow as I dared, ever watching the dunes to the left and right of us. Angie’s camera fired away on rapid-fire burst mode, sounding like a Japanese tourist witnessing the space shuttle launch.

Angie wants the aircraft, and by right it is her property. Therefore, Roland does not need to know that I can get the aircraft out in less space than what is available. Let him keep on thinking that the aircraft must be lightly loaded to get it airborne, and the space is limited. I smiled.

“You’re smiling. What’s up?” Angie asked.

“It’s a Braddick turboprop.”

“And what does that mean?”

“If the turbines are good, I can get her out in only 900 feet.”

“And that is good?”

“Yes. I only need 900 feet, and there are 2000 feet available. If she’s good, I’ll fly her out.”

“To Swakop?”

“To Swakopmund, for you.”

“Thank you, Ash. I owe you.”

“Nope. You owe me nothing. Roland will pay.”

“Are you sure? I can pay you too, you know?” Giggle.

“Yes, I’m sure. Keep your money. Save it for a rainy day.”

“Thanks, Ash.”

“Now! Sit down and buckle up! Before I spank your round little bottom for disregarding the rules.”

“Oh, you think you’re going to spank my bottom!” Angie stared at me with fire in her eyes and her mouth half-open, displaying pearl white teeth.

“Yes, for disregarding rules and putting our lives in danger by upsetting the centre of gravity of this aircraft ... and some other stuff ... I will still think of.”

“Hmph! You think you’re going to spank my bottom!”

“You’re keeping on doing it. Buckle up I said, or I’ll use a belt.”

“You think you’re going to spank me. Just like that?” Giggle.

“Angie, you’re still not buckled up.”

“On airliners, I can unbuckle and go to the toilet.”

“This is no airliner, and it ain’t got a toilet.”

Giggle.

“Do it.”

“Assertive, ain’t we, Dad.” She said, teasing me.

“Angie!”

“Yes, Dad.” And Angie reached for her harness and buckled in.

“That’s better. Now my nerves can rest.”

“It makes you nervous if I’m not buckled in?”

“Yes. You can hurt yourself. And it’s against the rules.”

“So, are you writing me up in your little black book?”

“No. I have no little black book.”

“So, I can be as naughty as I want?” Giggle.

“Angie, stop it,” I said, and trimmed the aircraft a little to level flight before setting the autopilot to maintain heading and altitude. Angie went quiet. I just hoped my little play of words about a spanking took her mind away from what we saw out in Dooievlei.

The miles passed beneath the Baron. Angie sat looking out her side window. I suppose many thoughts were milling in her mind. Above all, what became of her parents? I looked at the GPS and found that we were about halfway back to Lüderitz, out to the south-southwest across the wasteland of the Namib.

“What happened out there, Ash?” Angie asked, looking at me, her eyes moist. I could see the tears were laying shallow, on the brink of running down her cheeks.

“I don’t know, Angie. I really don’t know. But I will find out. If only to satisfy you, but I’ll do my best to find out.”

“It looks like they didn’t die. It looks so peaceful out there. Just the aircraft standing there, waiting for them to come back and fly her out.” And Angie broke down and cried. I could only reach out my right hand and touch her shoulder. Her whole body shook as sobs racked through her small frame. My heart was breaking for her. There was nothing I could do; just let her cry. Get it out. In a little while she would be okay.

After a while, Angie was over the biggest part of her grief. She sat silently with her right hand propping up her head, her elbow on the seat rest. She just sat looking at nothing. I had to break the tension.

“Does your majesty still desire chocolate cake, and maybe a milkshake?” I softly asked.

“Her majesty would like to murder someone, but in the meantime chocolate cake and a vanilla flavour milkshake will do,” Angie replied. “A double thick milkshake. One where the straw stands upright in the glass.”

“Good. We’re nine minutes out. There are some baby wipes in my flight bag. Grab some.”

“Baby wipes? Do I look that bad?”

“No. But it will freshen you up too.”

“Thanks, Ash.” And Angie turned in her seat. Then she looked at me and giggled.

“I have to unbuckle to reach your flight bag.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? No speech and a thread of a spanking?” Giggle.

“Just don’t upset the centre of gravity too much.”

Giggle.

“What?”

“You.”

“Why me?”

“You think you’re going to spank me, and I won’t put up a fight? You’ll have to bring sandwiches along.

“Sandwiches?”

“Yeah. You’re going to be busy for a long time catching me. You’ll have to take a lunch break to revive your energy!” Giggle.

“I can always tie you up!”

“Now you’re getting kinky!”

“What do sweet little girls like you know about kinky?”

“You never know, do you?” Giggle.

“Looks like I need to write you up in my little black book.”

“I thought you said, you don’t have a little black book?”

“It’s here in my mind,” I said, tapping the side of my head with my index finger.

“Damn!”

“Another write-up.”

“Why another write-up?”

“Nice pretty ladies don’t say damn.”

Giggle.

“Unbuckle and get the wipes. We’re about to put the rubber stripes on the tarmac.”

“Not leather belt stripes?”

“Angelique!”

“Okay.” And Angie unbuckled and reached for my flight bag and opened it. “Damn! No ropes or whips in here.”

“Angie!”

“Yes?” Giggle.

“Stop it!”

Giggle.

But I was glad that she felt better. Not better, better. But a little better.

I did a squeaker of a landing. No bounce, no wobble. The tyres touched, gripped, and stuck to the runway. The nose wheel came down, and we did our landing roll down the runway. Okay, a wee bit to the left of the centreline, but who cares? All landings ain’t that textbook perfect.

With the Baron secured, locked, tied down, and keys handed back to the FBO, Angie and I made for the little coffee shop at the airport. Chocolate cake and vanilla double-thick milkshakes winking at us on this blistering hot day.

“Don’t let Roland, Cookie or anyone else knows that we’ve been out to Dooievlei,” I said.

“No. It will be our secret. I’ll also need to hide the pictures I’ve taken,” Angie said.

“You can dump them onto my iPad. No one will look for them there.”

“Are you going to make a backup too?”

“Yeah, for just in case to be certain it’s safe, I’ll drop it on a stick. You can keep the stick if you want.”

“Good. But this also means that we need to go to town. I’ve seen that I need some desert grade clothes for when we go to Dooievlei.” Angie said. “It will also authenticate our long absence.”

“Clever girl!” I said and was reminded again that Angie was no airhead. She was young but grew a lot in the three years her parents were gone.

“AND! You’ve got to wind me up when we get back to Schloss Meer Sicht. Just so that Roland still thinks I dislike you.” Giggle.

“So, you don’t dislike me?” I asked. Angie reached across the table and laid her tiny hand on my hand.

“Let’s say I see you as an allied force. Someone who doesn’t like Roland, therefore an ally to me.”

“Okay. So, how do I wind you up?”

“Say something about my freckles. I hate my freckles!”

“Oh, okay ... but just for your information, I like your freckles. They highlight your eyes.” And for the first time, I saw Angie blush. For a long time, she just looked at me, then she retracted her hand from mine and looked away, took her milkshake in her hand and sipped at the straw, finishing her drink.